Darkly, Darkly Mariku Aversa (Revised)
by NightingaleNightThief
Summary: Alone and friendless in an all boy's school, Marik is forced to rely on himself for company. But when one is left alone with their thoughts for too long, they can become a danger to themselves. Loneliness and anger begin to seep into Marik's life in the form of the being that dwells in the forest just beyond the school gates. His only hope for salvation lies in love.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: A rewrite because good Lord that fic is awful. I don't own YGO, don't own Darkly, Darkly Venus Aversa. I got the plot idea from there. You don't need a warning if you're in the M section, now do you? The hot stuff comes later. It's AU. Don't read if you're sensitive to the darker side of religion. Each chapter title is a song from the Darkly, Darkly Venus Aversa album. Feel free to look at the lyrics if you so wish.**

* * *

**Chapter One: The Cult of Venus Aversa**

His eyes, like the jewelry that clung to his form, were golden. They were unnatural. It sent shivers down people's spines faster than red eyes did. There was something far more dangerous about gold. They looked like churning pools of liquid riches.

Unfortunately for him, the gold was more notorious. Red spoke of danger, an immediate warning of blood and war. Gold, however, spoke of lust, glory, riches, power; the list could go on for days…

It was more noticeable. More easily seen in the night.

He could cloak himself in every bit of darkness he wanted, but it did nothing. Not if his eyes pierced the night like they did. That was why, on fogless nights, he hid them behind a cloak's hood. He'd lower his lashes as he swept through the forests, careful to make not a sound.

On slow nights, when no one crossed his path and offered him no fun, he would wander to the gate of the all boy's school that laid on the other side of his forest. He'd watch students run back and forth across campus, excitement shooting through him when one would wander just a little too close. He'd watch them seize up, eyes scanning the darkness.

He was like a force. Anywhere he went, a certain feeling of dread and death hung around. That was to be expected, he supposed. Still. It made it harder than needed for him to find entertainment.

Yes, Mariku lived a lonely existence. He preferred it. So few ever wanted to stay beside him, and he liked it that way. He couldn't deal with the same person for long periods of time. The little things began to drive him wild. The way some would blink, or maybe how they'd breathe.

He did, of course, have followers. Any being who dwelled in the less sought after places did. Small cults were constantly setting up shrines, begging for recognition.

It was just a shame that they didn't really know what they were getting in to. Mariku was not a kind being, nor was he benevolent. No, he was selfish and hungry. He had no time for them.

He used them, then removed them. Eventually, more would come. The cycle would just repeat.

But while he detested the people who sought him out, he did owe them some thanks. With each new follower, his power grew. Each word and chant and prayer.

But none of them were the _right _follower.

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**lll**

His eyes swept over the bowing masses. His own back was bowed, but just barely. He kept his head up, sharp eyes landing on anything that moved. Several shifted and looked back toward the front under his gaze. It was piercing.

He scoffed when whispers reached his ears.

"_Men? Ha. Freak." _

"Who is?" His voice rang out over the crowd, startling the praying masses. Everyone whipped to look at him then, not bothering to hide their irritation. "Who's a freak?"

"Mr. Ishtar, please stop talking." The nun's stern command rang out without a problem. Some students laughed to themselves and it made Marik's face burn with anger and embarrassment. So what everyone thought he was gay? Well, he was, but they didn't know anything for fact, the bunch of shits.

When the bells finally rang above his head, he stood fully erect. He rushed through the masses, ignoring the indigent scoffs he got when he'd bump someone. His eyes were set on the door. Candles' flames bent and flickered as he passed, but he paid it no mind.

He was, after all, a bit darkish.

His fingers dug into his cloak as he pulled it tighter around him, feet carrying him further and further from school grounds. Further from the hypocritical masses, with their whispers and laughs and holy prayers.

No one wanted to hang out with them but themselves. And even then, when one turned their back, the others talk. You learn a lot when you're always listening.

The wind outside bit into him and he grimaced. He'd rather pass through the woods than walk through town to reach his sister's home on the outskirts. He would cut his time in half that way.

With a heavy sigh, he turned toward the gates the marked the very edge of the school's property. They creaked when he opened them. Scribbled into the metal at the top was _St. Peter's Preparatory School. _A better title would have been hell, in his opinion. But no, the professors and administrators there barely dared to utter that word. They wouldn't be caught dead with it written across the school gates.

Honestly, he'd never felt at home at the school. From the moment he'd arrived, they'd ridiculed him about his hair, his skin, the strange way he lined his eyes. They didn't understand his culture, so they chose to take it out on him.

Humans were funny that way.

His sister had said that it would be good for discipline. Like Marik needed any more of that? His tyrannical father had instilled enough discipline to last him for the rest of his life.

Besides that, what they taught at St. Peter's was not _discipline _as much as what _obedience. _Head down, do what you're told. Shut your mouth, believe the lies.*

Marik wasn't one for obeying, especially when they took all those _rules _at face value. They look it as being literal, and nothing about the book they taught him from was_ literal._

Pulling himself from his irritated thoughts, he shoved the underbrush out of his way. The forest was always eerily quiet that time of night. It made him nervous on occasion, and maybe a little jumpy.

Marik wasn't scared of the dark, though it made him uneasy. He was scared of what the darkness _hid. _He hated being at a disadvantage. He supposed that was his true fear.

He was nearly halfway to his sister's by then. He could just make out the light of the houses in the distance. The flames from the homes looked tiny from there. He shuddered, moving quickly. He wanted to be near the fire so badly. The cold was making his movements stiff.

Just as he neared the edge of the woods, a crack sounded behind him. His steps faltered for a moment as he swiveled to look behind him. He hadn't brought a light. The moon had been enough to light his path when he'd begun, but sometime along the way clouds had blocked the soft glow.

As he waited, he forced his breaths to quiet. No sound but that of the creaking trees greeted him. For a moment, he second guessed himself. Had he really heard it? He could have stepped on a stick and snapped it himself. It didn't have to be another person. It was probably a squirrel or any number of other things.

Finally, he chose to dismiss it. The night was getting to him. The sooner he fled the forest, the better.

Turning on his heel, he marched out into his sister's backyard. The windows were still open, despite the chilly air. He rolled his eyes. That figured.

The door was opened by the time he got there. He greeted his sister with a gentle kiss on her cheek and slid past her, completely unaware that he was being watched.

* * *

**lll**

The boy resembled him.

Golden hair. Dark skin. Anger boiling beneath the surface.

It was peculiar. He'd never come across such anger from one at the school. All the others were content to follow like sheep. But this one…

He was different.

In his haste to catch up with him, Mariku had slipped. He'd stepped too hard and a stick had broken beneath his weight. The fear in the boy's eyes was so delicious, he'd had to suppress a moan.

But mixed with the fear, burning in those eyes, was defiance. The young boy had been willing to fight. It wasn't like he would have had much luck with that, but still. It was amusing to entertain the idea of engaging the boy.

But he'd slipped away. Mariku had watched as he embraced the curvy woman that answered the door. The wind carried a quiet, "_Welcome, brother…" _to Mariku's ears. The demon strained to hear the younger's voice, chewing his lip. But the boy said nothing as he disappeared inside, Mariku's eyes following him all the while.

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**A/N: So the rewrite begins. Please let me know what you think via review! To answer your questions: Bronzeshipping will ensue, along with Thiefshipping. Thank you for reading!**

**~Nightingale. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: WHOOPS. I'm not dead. I am, however, a piece of shit.**

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**Chapter Two: One Foul Step From the Abyss**

_Amidst those walls, creed of dementia _

_Annihilated by sheer weight of the surge_

_Put to the sword, freed from their calenture _

_The great estate was given straight to the church._

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The wind whipping at Marik caused a deep stirring of distaste within him. All too soon did he miss his sister's warm hearth and equally warm heart. As he glanced back over his shoulder, he thought he might see the flames flickering still through her small window, but it could have very well been his imagination. It was prone to running wild, especially in the dark forest surrounding St. Peter's. A tree limb became a hand, a root a leg. Nothing was safe from the mind's cruel and forced illusions.

A violent shudder tore through him, the sort to make his muscles ache and he hurried on that much quicker. Though wholly undesirable, St. Peter's did offer warmth and his bed, and that was what pushed him on, and not, he thought, the quiet groans of the tall trees surrounding him. Certainly not.

Soon this land would belong to the church, but Mark doubted seriously that that would solve any of his problems. The church had no luck chasing away his demons before, and those lived simply in his mind. There was absolutely no telling what lurked beyond these trees, what twisted in the darkness.

Stopping that train of thought before he turned shadows in to goblins, he trudged on. At least there, nestled amongst the underbrush, the wind could not tear at him as it so wished to do. When a tree to his left groaned in the night, he clenched his jaw, refusing to allow himself to move quicker. No damn tree would instill fear.

But, he supposed, it wasn't just the tree. It was that deep, tell-tale whisper that he was not alone. His body, without his consent, picked up on the vibe of a predator and warned in with a feeling of deep foreboding, both urging him forward and freezing him in place.

In a moment of morbid humor, he thought that perhaps there should be a third unit added to the fight or flight response, and he thought it to be _freeze. _

But again, even as that whisper told him something was near, he pushed on. A tree was a tree, a limb a hand- no! A limb.

Ahead, in the watery light of the moon, something glinted. Something gold. Of course this piqued his interest. As far as he knew, no one took this shortcut but him. The whispered tales and rumors scared the lesser students away. Marik still sometimes snorted when he thought about their pale, stricken faces as they uttered words like '_evil' _or, his favorite, '_possession'._

Oh, yes. A demon did indeed dwell in these woods, and he went by the name of Ignorance.

Laughing at his own joke, he bent to brush leaves away from the golden object. Oh, irony. Two snakes, intertwined, and covered in gold lay nestled among the foliage. Perhaps the students there were right, and a demon had lost it while looking for prey. Oh the absurdity.

Of course Marik was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he took it. He did not wear it though. Mud still caked it, keeping him from opening the latch. Even if that hadn't been covered, he didn't know if he would put it on. He had so few uniforms, he didn't need to dirty one for the sake of fashion.

As he opened that creaky gate, he idly wondered if he would be allowed to wear it. Snakes were nearly forbidden here, as signs of evil and wickedness. Signs of the devil himself. So, he decided he would wear it beneath the collar of his uniform. The snakes were not so bulky that they might be noticed.

He allowed the gate to slam, announcing his presence to the irritable and cold night watchmen who gave him stern looks and ordered him to his quarters immediately, because didn't he know curfew was a mere ten minutes away?

"Of course, gentlemen. I was merely taking a walk." He gave an exaggerated bow and disappeared through the nearest oak door, letting out a sigh when some warmth began to seek into him. He still could not feel his fingers, but that was no matter. Soon he would be asleep, not feeling anything.

The corridors were silent as he made his way to his rooms, and while he normally might stir up a fuss with how loudly he scuffed his boots along stone floors, he simply did not have it in him to do so just then. The snakes were still clenched so tightly in his hand that they bit into his skin, and he did not want to risk discovery with them. They were a treasure, he was sure. How else would he explain the undeniable pull he felt to the object? Perhaps, he thought, it was the money they would run for. Not that he would sell them. But it was a comforting thought.

"Oi," he uttered quietly as he opened the door to his dorm. "Yuugi." His roommate looked to be asleep if the lump under blanket was any indication. He waited just a moment more, to be sure the breathing he heard was easy and deep, not forced, before he moved to his wardrobe.

Carefully he removed the box hidden beneath folds of casual clothes. A large lock marked the front of the box, and the key resided under his shirt. Opening it quietly, he let out a small breath. All his treasures hid there. A ring of his mother's that sealed a worn drawing of her laughing, one of Isis' earrings that she'd given him upon realizing she would never find its twin, and soil from his childhood home. It had been hard to let go of that land. That was where his mother lay.

Letting out his bated breath, he allowed the necklace to rest atop all of those items and quickly closed the box. Once it was locked again and hidden away, he undressed, diving beneath his blankets for refuge.

That night he dreamed in gold.

* * *

So, the boy had taken the snakes. The necklace of Harmonia, of discord, of strife.

How, Mariku wondered, had the boy not questioned the gift so surreptitiously hidden in the dank woods? Did he truly believe fate might be so kind? No, fate had never been kind to that boy, Mariku knew. He could smell the deep twisting sadness beneath his exterior. He hid it beneath anger, because it was so much easier to be angry than sad. Sadness gave you no goal.

Ah, none of that truly mattered. All that mattered to him was that the boy had indeed picked it up. He'd strained to hear the way the boy's pulse had risen with the lucky find. The way he clutched it made Mariku think he might not be oblivious to the true reason he had no desire to leave it behind, but he did not worry all too much. Humans often excused everything, because it was unfathomable for something to exist without reason.

Soon, that boy would respond to his every call. The necklace belonged to _him _and pulsed with a darkness so old, no one could quite remember where it had come from. Mariku remembered, of course. He was born from that dark and cold flame, given one sole purpose.

To bring chaos where there was peace, death where there was life, and melancholy where there was laughter.

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**A/N: Honestly my writer's block just broke recently. I wrote this in less than an hour so if it's shit I'm sorry. I'm like .3 seconds from asleep. **

**~Nightingale.**


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